7 Up

“Is it Louis? What happened?”
“Louis is fine, Harry. It’s Louis’ grandmother.” Anne pauses. “She passed away last night in her
sleep.”
Harry’s mouth goes dry. “How…”
“She had a stroke.”
“Christ.” He doesn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t feel like you need to go if you’re busy, but the funeral is in two days. I’ll be attending with
Robin.”
Harry mindlessly scratches his jaw. “No, I’ll go. I think it would be nice if I went.”
“I think so, too.”
Harry says goodbye to his mum and when he hangs up the phone, Justin is staring curiously.
“I, uh, I have to go to a funeral on Thursday,” he whispers.
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. Who for? Would you like me to come?”
Harry shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. It’s for an old friend’s grandmother. You go home to your
family. And we’ll do some more flat searching over the weekend?”
Justin nods and pulls Harry in for a tight hug. “You do what you need to do. I’m not going
anywhere.”
Harry is dressed entirely in black, sat at the church between his mum, Robin, Liam, and his
parents. Niall and his mum are sat in the row behind them.
The church is decorated beautifully, and it’s clear how many people love the Tomlinson family.
Hundreds of people are here to pay their respects, and Harry feels comforted by the fact that Louis
is being comforted, regardless of who it’s by.
He remains stoic, occasionally making eyes at Liam, throughout the service, and one of Louis’
cousins reads a beautiful poem. Halfway through it, he sees Jay dabbing at the corner of her eye.
Louis leans over to squeeze her hand.
The funeral immediately follows, and Harry stands behind the majority of the crowd, leaving room
for the enormous Tomlinson family up front. All of the grandchildren place a single flower on the
casket, and though Harry is as far back as he can be, he is still able to make out the slight tremor in
Louis’ hand when he rests the white rose down.
Harry hasn’t spoken to Louis once yet - he isn’t sure if Louis even knows he’s present, to be honest
- and he’s struggling to find the right time to approach him. So when he’s leaving the cemetery,
head down, shuffling through the dirt and dust on the ground, he assumes he’ll see him later on,
back at the church, maybe. He isn’t expecting it when he feels a hand grasp him by the shoulder.